


Equinox

by Nilsine



Category: Original Work
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Baristas, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Belly Dancing, Broken Engagement, Coffee Shops, Conspiracy, Corruption, Dark Comedy, Epic Bromance, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Fog, Geographical Isolation, Hidden Depths, Islands, Libraries, Love Triangles, Love at First Sight, Lovecraft Lite, Loving Marriage, Loyalty, Mystery, Odd Hair Colors, Paranoia, Plot Twists, Politics, Professors, Psychic Abilities, Psychological Drama, Reincarnation, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Slow Build, Small Towns, Unhealthy Relationships, Urban Fantasy, Worldbuilding, univeristy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilsine/pseuds/Nilsine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It can be said with certainty that no one alive has ever seen the sky. The island of Briony has been sitting in a ball of mist and grey for nearly 200 years. The city is one, but its supernatural denizens are nearly split in two: The Tag and the Nacht. And at the center of the coldest war in human history, the Levesques and the Wongs rule their precious hunk of the city.</p><p>Meanwhile, a Tag named Veera has been single for too long, so the government has issued him a new bride. But, to his shock, he's to marry Banon, a social pariah who not only does she dare to call Rex, a Nacht, her life-long friend, but she was accused of trying to steal a powerful object, one that could tear their society into pieces. That--and he'd just met her months before when she washed up naked on the beach! </p><p>Who is Miss Banon? And who is this Rex? And why is Cyril Lévesque so threatened by her... that he might be willing to kill her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Equinox

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on DeviantArt.

Veera never knew what to expect that day. It had begun like any other. He always woke up early and left the apartment on top of his diner in order to open up the kitchen for Evelyn (sometimes, he would have a piece of cold toast hanging from his mouth). On that particular day, after letting Evelyn in, he had left right away, powered his bicielo with the sufficient amount of energy, and rode to the fisher's market for the fresh catch. He always took the final mile—half-mile, if he was in a hurry—on foot. The entire road was so foggy that he couldn't see two yards in front of his vehicle, but that was nothing unusual. There was often fog on the island of Briony.

Veera never liked the weather on the island. Especially at that time—in mid fall—when it was often cold and wet. Unlike him, most people learned to love the “bracing” weather. He merely tolerated it in silence. And the fog—the fog was always at its thickest!

And because of that fog—and the fact it wasn't yet sunrise—he hadn't noticed at first. Veera probably thought it was just a formation of rocks. Or perhaps, he was too focused on pleasing his customers with his special fish chowder. No, he didn't realize that anything was amiss, until he heard the voice.

_**“Help...me!”**_ it said.

It was like a quiet whisper, a disembodied voice that spoke directly into his mind. Someone had sent him a telepathic message. Someone he didn't recognize. Veera stopped, searching in all directions. He saw no one. He kept walking, slower this time, and continued to look.

It wasn't until he got close enough, mere yards away, that he could see it for what it really was—a person lying face first in the gray sand. Bare naked. 

And he knew right away that it was a woman.

_What in hellfire!?_ His mind screamed.

Like any other sane person, he froze in his tracks, completely stunned. And then he rushed over in a panic. Sinking into the wet sand, Veera pulled her onto her side, brushing her long, purple hair out of the way, and checked her pulse. He didn't need to, though; she started coughing and sputtering just fine. 

For modesty's sake, he took off his coat and started wrapping it around her. It was easy too, around that small body of hers. Her eyes blinked, and she started twitching and gasping in his arms. 

“Miss, wait!” he cried. “Wait! Wait! It's alright. Not gonna harm you!”

The woman stopped moving, but her whole body heaved with each breath. He covered her as best he could, avoiding eye contact. 

Veera knelt where he was, getting her into a sitting position, and cradled her until she calmed down. She eventually slumped against him, puffing through her nose, and grabbed a handful of his sweater. Her skin was terribly pale, and her cheeks and nose were redder than a tomato. Her head started to fall, but he lightly smacked her against the cheek. 

“Can you stand?” Veera asked. 

The woman grunted and tried to move. Veera held her steady and slowly rose with her. As soon as she got to her feet, her legs gave way, and she fell almost out of the coat. Changing his strategy, Veera helped her into the coat again, buttoned her up, and crouched on the ground in front of her.

“Get on.”

She feebly climbed onto his back, and he hoisted her up and carried her piggyback, all the way back to his bicielo. He moved—almost ran—as quickly as he could. She hugged his neck and shivered against him. 

_I really wish I could teleport,_ he mourned.

There would be no fresh catch for the customers.

 

 

Veera snuck up to the steps of his apartment, right at the backside of the diner. He managed to keep his arriving employees from seeing him and raced up to his apartment. Unfortunately, he couldn't avoid be spotted by Evelyn, who was out for her morning cigarette. She called after him, but he didn't stop to explain. His face was flushed from all of the excitement, and the woman was stuck to him like glue. 

_If only I had this much luck with the ladies_ _ **all**_ _the time_ , he thought, trying to lift his spirits. 

It didn't help.

Veera burst through the front door and slowly lowered her onto the couch. The woman shut her eyes tight and started rubbing her chest. He scrambled towards his linen closet and grabbed the thickest blanket he could get his hands on. He came back and practically threw it on her lap.

“Okay... I...” he stammered. _What do I do now?_

He looked up and down, and suddenly, she was an even bigger mess than when he first laid eyes on her. Her face and hair were caked in sand, and she looked like death _frozen_ over. He didn't think she'd be able to stand in a shower—let alone take a bath by herself.

A loud knock came at the apartment door, and he was rudely dragged out of his thoughts. He could recognize the sound of Evelyn's knuckles from anywhere. 

“Veer!” she called out. “What's going on in there!? Open up!”

Veera looked frantically between his “guest” and the door. 

“You should get that,” the woman suggested in a raspy voice.

Veera marched towards the door and opened it. Evelyn scarcely got out her words before he dragged her inside and locked the door behind her. She flayed about briefly and wriggling out of his grasp—her minty hair as animated as her every movement. 

“What are you doing!?” she hissed, “What happened to the fresh catch?”

She stopped and gave the woman a glance-over. “Who's this kid?”

“I think she washed up on the beach,” Veera replied. “That's the freshest catch you're ever gonna get...”

“What!?”

Veera grabbed her by the arms. 

“You have to help me here!” he demanded. “I need you.”

“But—!” 

“She needs a bath. And something warm to drink...”

Veera looked over Evelyn's shoulder. The woman was staring off in a different direction. Evelyn turned around and wrinkled her nose.

“I'm not sure what happened to her,” he said, “but I...”

Evelyn softened under his grip. “Wait. On the beach?”

“Yes.”

“And you just carried some strange woman into your place, no questions asked!? You **know** about all the mishegas that's been going on lately! You should've just taken her to the cops—”

Veera raised his arms. “And let her freeze to death on the way to the station!?”

“Call them now!” she urged.

“I was _**planning**_ on it! Just as soon as I—”

The argument came to an end with a loud thump. Veera and Evelyn turned to see the woman pulling herself up off the floor, using the couch for support. Veera rushed over to stop her. She managed to get to her feet and started walking forward, but he ended up catching her as she lost balance. 

“Stop, stop!” he snapped. “You shouldn't move on your own right now!”

“No police!” she wheezed. 

“No what?”

The woman raised her head and gave him a piercing glare with her tired, crimson eyes. Veera swallowed. She reached up and touched his forehead with her finger. Her voice echoed in his mind.

_**“Get me... Franklin Stewart,”**_ she said. 

“Him?” he replied. “Why him?”

The woman started to hacked but continued. _**“Tell him... you found... his painter. He'll know... what you're talking about...”**_

She trailed off and fell to her knees, slowly losing consciousness. Veera looked to Evelyn for help, but she was too busy being completely confused. 

“What did she just say to you?” she asked. 

Veera didn't answer. He lifted the woman up and laid her onto the couch. He headed towards his bedroom. 

“Wake her up, give her a bath!” he commanded. 

“Veer!” she shrilled.

Veera tuned her out and stepped into his bedroom. He went into his closet and pulled out a phone book from his shelf. The Memoire Library's phone number was always on the third page—a standard rule. He walked up to his working desk, took a deep breath, and dialed the number. The ringer made him wait far too long for his liking. 

A young girl answered the call on the other end.

“Good morning,” she said, with a fairly lackluster tone. “You've reached the Memoire Library of Tag. How may I help you?”

“Uh...” he began. “Can I speak to Mr. Franklin Stewart, Miss?”

“May I ask what your business is _**with**_ Mr. Stewart?”

“Um, I... I found... his painter.”

The line went silent. Veera strained his ears.

“Um, Miss...?”

“I...” she replied. “I, uh...I'll put you on hold...”

The line was suddenly filled with odd, waiting music. Veera sat at his desk and rustled his fingers through his hair. Saying that this was a horrible start for the day was a gross understatement. A very long two minutes passed before the music finally cut off.

“Hello, I—” 

“Who are you?” came a brusque reply.

Veera nearly choked on his words. “Are you...Mr. Stewart?””

“I am,” Franklin replied. “ **Who** are you?”

“I... Veera Tiryaki.”

“And you say you found _my painter_?”

“That's what she told me to say.”

“She?”

Veera swallowed nervously, remembering that it was only half past five in the morning. Men like Franklin Stewart did not sleep well at night.

“I found some woman washed up on the beach. She said to call you.”

“Plum colored hair?” he continued. “Red eyes? Beauty mark under her eye?”

Veera sighed and rubbed his forehead, trying to remember. His thoughts were swimming.

“Yeah. Under her left eye?”

He heard Franklin snorting on the other end, along with some rustling papers. 

“Where are you?” he asked.

“At my diner bar,” Veera answered. “The Aurora. You heard of it?”

“Yes. Thank you. I'll be there in two or three hours. I'll come to your back door. Please... keep her out of sight. And get her something to eat. I'll pay for it.”

The line went dead, and for a moment, Veera just sat there, listening to the tone. Two or three hours. The Memoire Library of Tag was on the other side of the island, in the Zon District. And the security that Mr. Stewart had to go through in order to leave his post—it wouldn't be pretty.

After a while, he hung up, leaned back into his chair, and bit his knuckle. Veera knew it was going to be one awful week. 

And it was hardly Monday.

 

 

“She's a hearty eater,” Evelyn deadpanned. “She might've eaten the plate too if she could've.”

That was the first time she had spoken to him in the past two hours. He supposed it was a good sign. After things had calmed down somewhat, the pair had made up for lost time, and the diner bar was opened at seven. The kitchen was up and running, and Evelyn was shouting out commands to the collective cooks and scribbling notes in her business journal. Veera had just finished inspecting the fish supply. 

“You sure she's asleep?” he asked.

“Snuggled up in **your** bed,” she muttered in his ear. “Wearing your **sweats**.”

Veera scoffed. “Still holding a grudge, eh Evie?”

“I feel bad for the girl...and maybe we're treating her better than the police would... but you still missed the fresh catch, you shmendrik!”

“So, I'll get some next week. It's not gonna lose us customers.”

Evelyn scoffed and poured a shot of whisky into her coffee mug.

“So, she knows the Memoire-keeper,” Veera mused. “Someone important?”

“Maybe, she's some kidnapped heiress,” Evelyn allowed. “No wonder she wants no police. Too much publicity.”

“I don't recall hearing about any kidnapping. And she doesn't have any bruises on her.”

“Exactly.”

She hummed quietly and started sipping on her tainted coffee. 

“But why the Memoire-keeper?” he questioned. “What's this gotta do with him?”

“He's an upper echelon, isn't he?” she replied derisively. 

Veera laughed unpleasantly. “He takes care of dead people's memories for a living, Evie. He doesn't do damage control.”

He shook his head and headed towards the back door.

“Where are _**you**_ going?” she said.

“Gonna go check on the princess,” he retorted.

In truth, he admitted to himself, he just wanted some distance from his disgruntled partner. Evelyn—in his eyes, at least—was being more irritable and less empathetic than usual. It was as if the reality of the situation wasn't getting through to her. Or perhaps... she was just rattled from the shock of it all. He couldn't figure out which, and for the moment, he really didn't care.

Veera returned to his apartment almost stealthily and slowly crept up to his bedroom door. He planned to crack the door, peer inside for a quick moment, and then make himself a cup of coffee—without hard liquor. But when he approached his bedroom, he starting hearing her voice coming from inside. It sounded as if she was talking to someone. As he stood in front of the door, unable to help but hear, he realized that she was using his phone.

“Yes,” she said. “Has it really been three weeks?... No, I don't remember much. Or maybe, I don't want to remember at all...”

Veera cleared his throat and knocked on the door. There was a short pause.

“Excuse me,” she said, and then, “Come in!”

He opened the door and poked his head in. The woman briefly turned to see his face and returned to her conversation. 

“How's Penny?” she asked. “Is she...? That's good. Tell her I said hello... that everything's alright. I'm stronger than I look... Yes, of course **you'd** know.”

The woman closed her eyes, smiled softly, and giggled into the receiver. It gave Veera a start. After what she had been through, he assumed that she was either tougher than nails or extremely optimistic. 

“Okay...” she said, “...I am the one who reminds you to look up at the sky... Take care... love you.”

She gingerly hung up the phone, her smile disappearing. 

“I was...” Veera murmured. “I was just checking up on you. Sorry.”

“It's alright,” she replied. “I was just calling a friend. Needed to let him know I was safe.”

“Aren't you tired?”

“Yes... but I can't sleep.”

 _Yeah,_ he mused. _I'll bet you can't._

Veera cleared his throat, and the woman sat down at the edge of his bed. She didn't look back him. He thought she appeared rather fitting in his sweats. Never mind that they were probably two sizes too big. Though, if it weren't for her long hair—all the way down her waist— her full lips, and the fact that he had seen her in the buff, he could've easily mistaken her for some young, teenaged boy who still hadn't lost his baby skin. 

He was a little disturbed that he found that _quite_ appealing. 

Veera sat down next to her, making sure that there was enough room between them, and cleared his throat again. 

“So, how are doing?” he asked.

“I'm alright,” she answered. “ _ **Relatively**_.”

“You're not hurting anywhere?” 

“No. Actually... I'm feeling... stronger.”

Veera nodded, and the woman wrapped her arms around her chest.

“You're awfully lucky, Miss,” he said. “I only take the beach route when I'm in a hurry.” 

“Hmm,” she replied. “I understand. I like getting the fresh catch too.”

They both had to snigger at that.

“If it isn't too much to ask...” he said, “why were you there on the beach? What... happened to you out there?”

The woman raised her head, and her eyes narrowed. “Sorry. It's best you didn't know.”

“But—”

“The less you know of me, the better. Trust me.”

She tossed her hair behind her back and rubbed her smooth, white neck. Her ears looked small and delicate. The health was starting to return to her cheeks, turning them to a slightly rosy color. She turned to him, gave him a polite smile, and asked,

“Could I trouble you for a cup of tea?”

Veera flushed, realizing that he was staring. 

 

 

An hour later, Veera was back in the kitchen, sitting in his office, and stared down the back entrance through the door. He decided that he'd let her keep the sweats. If he ever wore them again, he'd feel ashamed of himself. Evelyn nonchalantly entered his office and slapped two mugs of coffee on the counter. One of them was his favorite mug. Veera thanked her and started sucking on it. 

“She looks ridiculously tiny in your clothes,” she said with a laugh. “Unless, you're not as skinny as I take you for.”

She sounded cheerful **and** she was teasing him. Definitely a good sign.

“You'd think she was drinking Early Grey when I gave her that cheap stuff,” he thought aloud.

“Want me to wash your sheets tonight?” she offered.

“...Yes.” 

“Too bad, then.”

Veera scowled and gave her the thumbs down. Evelyn grinned and started drinking on her mug. 

“Hubby says I should cut down on my caffeine intake,” she commented. “He wants me to quit smoking too.”

“You should probably listen to him,” Veera agreed. “He's a doctor.”

Evelyn clicked her tongue. “Whatever.”

Veera rolled his eyes. “If you don't like doctors, then you should've asked the council to pair you off with another man.”

“No way!” she snapped. “The next guy **they** pick is always worse than the first. You know how the system works.”

Veera nodded, pretending to agree with her.

“Then you should've gotten yourself married **before** you turned twenty-seven. **You** know how that works too.”

“Won't you be twenty-seven in... oh... about five months?”

“I don't mind. Unlike you, I'm not picky. Just as long as she isn't butt ugly... or has... a _bad personality_.”

Someone finally wrapped at the back entrance. Veera and Evelyn blinked, and he slid off the stool to greet their next guest. No one would reach the door before him.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Here we go.” 

Before he opened the door, Veera could see the man through the glass window. He was bundled up in a dark gray coat, with a black scarf wrapped over his nose. He was carrying a bag over his shoulders. His hair--a dull, olive green—was tussled and messy. His thick-framed glasses were fogged up, hiding his eyes. It wasn't what Veera expected at all.

 _Maybe, he's hiding his face,_ he pondered.

He touched a pad that was on the wall, next to the door, and unlocked it. He opened the door ajar, peering out. “Mr... Stewart?”

“Yeeees!?” Franklin replied impatiently. 

Veera stepped outside to join him. 

“Right this way, sir,” he urged, and led up to the apartment. Once inside, Franklin unwrapped the scarf and gasped for air. 

“She ate well?” he asked.

“Very well.”

“Thank you, boy.”

Veera bit his lip, trying not show that he had a problem being called “boy”. The Memoire-keeper took off his glasses and breathed over them, clearing the fog. He looked much younger without the frames, but Veera wouldn't dare say something so flippant to **him** of all people.

He directed Franklin to the bedroom. Franklin practically ran ahead of him.

 _She must be..._ _ **very**_ _important,_ Veera decided.

By the time he had caught up, Franklin was already in the bedroom, standing before her. His head was bowed low. The woman was sitting on her knees, cradling a mug of tea in her hands. 

“I'm glad!” he said breathlessly. “We had no idea... Hua and I were...”

“I'm sorry,” she replied. “It seems my little adventure went awry. Not that I didn't expect that.”

Franklin shook his head. “You did what you needed to do.”

She nodded assent. “I always do what I **need** to get done, Mr. Stewart.”

The woman averted her eyes, looking directly at Veera. Franklin turned to see him. 

“How soon would you like to leave?” Franklin asked her. 

“Not right now,” she answered. “This is my second cup of tea, and I don't want to waste it.”

“Right.”

Franklin left the room, brushing past Veera, and beckoned him away from the door. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. 

“Mr. Tiryaki...thank you for taking care of her,” he said. “The Memoire Library of Tag is in your debt.”

“Is she an employee?” Veera asked.

“No.”

“Then who is she?”

“She didn't tell you.”

It was a statement, not a question. Veera shook his head anyway.

“Then you don't need to know.”

 

A half-hour later, Franklin led the woman outside to the back of the diner, where his car was waiting. No chauffeur. She was wearing an odd, robe-like dress, one that Franklin has brought for her in his bag. They had been puzzled as too why Veera had insisted she take the sweats.

Veera stood in the doorway, watching them as they went. Franklin went to power up the car, but the woman reached out and touched the power panel on the side of the driver's door. The front lights flicked on, and Franklin gaped.

“I'm more than capable of powering up a car,” she declared. 

Franklin frowned at her but didn't say a word. He walked over to the passenger door and opened it for her. As she stepped in, the woman stopped to look upon Veera's face once last time. She smiled and turned away, disappearing inside. Franklin got into the car, started the engine, and the pair were off, leaving Veera in the distance.

 

“You should stay out of sight for a while,” Franklin said to her. “The Lévesque Family...”

“To hell with the Lévesques!” the woman replied. 

“I agree with that sentiment, but still...”

“I know. Can I stay on the Library grounds?”

The car drove up onto an oceanside road. The fog was starting to dissipate, but the sky was gray for as far as the eye could see. It always had been.

“Anything you say. As long as take better care of yourself! I'm begging you...”

She gave him a wave and looked out upon the view. “I will. Don't worry. There's no reason to be reckless. For now.”

Franklin breathed through his nose, keeping his eyes on the road. “Meaning?”

The woman sat back in the car seat and answered with a chortle.


End file.
